Chapter Eighty-Six #2
Cirrin turns to catch my eyes before directing his gaze back toward a large section of ceiling that is dropping directly toward us.
Did I just send my magic through the gap, only to condemn us to be crushed to death?
Cirrin screws his eyes shut as I throw my shield over us. My pulse throbs low and slow, and something feels off, with the shimmering outline feeling thinner than usual. The force emanating from my being feels unstable, and I don’t know that anything can be done to stop it.
We cover our heads—as if our arms could do anything to protect our skulls—while memories flash behind my closed eyes.
Tasch’s voice carries through the covers I hide behind, though I can sense her gaze fall over my form, with something tethering me to her presence already.
My breath steadies as she so patiently waits by the bed, without asking or demanding me to reveal myself.
And when she talks to me, she infuses a respect, an understanding.
Helping me to feel ready. So I sit upright and allow the blankets to fall so she can see me for the first time.
Those aquamarine eyes land on mine with a magic unlike anything I’ve known. Settling my soul as it rests, no longer begging for escape from this misery like every moment before this.
Recalling so many firsts—
The first genuine smile she shared with me. The one that stretches the corners of her lips and forces her cheeks to rise so high it crinkles the lines on the sides of her eyes.
The first time I made her laugh after a terrible attempt at being humorous.
The fire in her eyes every time she puts up a fight, her words drawn like daggers.
I blink back the past to see if my shield held and marvel at the enormous piece of stone shuddering through the air, as if whoever is saving us must be low on magic.
Something draws near from within my periphery, and I turn to where Malin steps down from the mound of debris. Tension in my chest relents as I wait for Lars to come behind him. Then my brows furrow when no one does.
Malin’s eyes flit around and study our faces. “Thank the Gods.” His voice holds steady, though a hint of concern hides within it.
“Where is Tasch?” My voice shatters as I try to say her name.
“She’s safe.” Malin locks his hazel eyes on mine as the wrinkles stretching from the dark lines painted around each of them soften.
My shoulders drop in response. “What about Lars?”
He shakes his head. “He was with me at the edge of the stage when Drusilla came to explain how she and Imelda had kept the Emperor and his Guards away. Then I lost sight of him right after Fray flew off with Tasch.”
I clench my jaw to distract from the pain throbbing up my leg. “You’re sure she’s alive? You promise she’s okay?”
Malin nods, placing his hand over my heart and pressing in. “I promise. Fray will keep her safe.”
Mei waella is safe.
My shoulders shake as hysterical laughter rocks me.
Mei meida is finally fucking free of this place.
“Though she was distraught about your well-being, and the rest of her Guards.”
She didn’t see me. She doesn’t know I’m alive.
The thought of her suffering—of her worrying about me—I can’t. My heart can’t take it.
“We need to leave.” The boom of my voice rattles me, and my muscles shake with a power I did not conjure as it builds within my limbs, humming in a sickeningly familiar—
“Stand back!” I toss my arms out to the side, making sure no one comes any closer as the blast energy courses through my body, then propels itself with terrifying velocity, stealing my breath as it knocks me backward.
A terrible crack splits the air as the boulder that had entrapped my leg rises in the air and hurtles to the right—where my eyes widen at Lars, who steps in its path.
His bright blue eyes lock on Malin, and his expression relaxes when we all scream, “No!” The edges of my vision disappear, and I can’t seem to move when the stone slams into his chest. His legs rise off the ground as the force of my magic throttles him backward.
I stare over at Lars, where he lies on the ground with the boulder hovering above his chest, feeling just as trapped as I was with the same rock crushing my leg, unable to take back my action that caused this.
Malin rushes to Lars so quickly he rivals his speed, while everything else seems to have stilled around us. The stone hovering above Lars still poses a threat. One Malin wouldn’t allow if his magic were strong enough, meaning he must have been using it to help save others before this.
“I’m so sorry, mei swul—” Malin says. “I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
His guilt squeezes my heart, because this isn’t his fault.
I did this to the one who is his soul, like Tasch is my own.
Then the world around me fades, and the past I’ve relived too often projects itself over everything—
The nauseating smell of sulphur fills my lungs. Twisting my stomach as I scan the ground, furrowing my brow, seeking any explanation as to why everyone appears to be lying down.
Why are they on the ground? And why aren’t they moving?
They stare up at the night sky with a lifeless quality. Missing that typical light behind their eyes. Looking different from sleep. More like death than anything.
My stomach plummets.
“Dragons, please don’t let this be happening. Please let this be a bad nightmare.”
Yet as I scan my comrades, my lips form the word ‘no’.
I stand and stare at them. Immobile.
Buried beneath the rubble of a world I used to know.
A world where everyone in my unit was filled with life.
Before I—
I shake my head to banish the memory and pull in a raspy breath through the fabric of my mask—a distinct reminder of where I am.
Cirrin drops to his knees. “Can I move the boulder while you hold it up with your magic?” He looks to Malin with hope until Malin shakes his head, apparently not trusting what might happen were they to try it.
Cirrin’s eyes fall closed, and he holds his hands over Lars’ abdomen.
There are so many of them. So many of my comrades.
Lying there. Too still.
No, no, no.
Not this. Not now. My friends need me. My brothers.
I can’t be doomed to kill everyone I ever care about, can I? Gods, this is fucked.
Malin lifts Lars’ hand and presses a kiss to his limp fingers through his mask. “My magic is too fragile. If you move the object I’m holding, I’m afraid it may come down on top of him. The only way to get him out would be to move him.”
Cirrin shakes his head. “It isn’t wise to move him until I’ve finished healing him.”
“Then I will keep holding the boulder as long as I can while you work on healing him.”
Neither of them asks for my assistance. They don’t even look in my direction.
Because I’ve done it again. I’m the monster who kills his friends.
Every part of my being freezes as the horror descends—projecting the most terrible moment over the present.
No matter what I do now, I cannot reverse it.
I can’t turn back time and never blast my magic.
No amount of staring will pull the breath back into their lungs.
Because they’re dead.
I killed them.
My eyes slam shut as I think back to when I pushed the power inside me past anything I knew could exist. In a blast meant to push Minacia’s shielded forces back.
“More, Euclid! You can do better than that!”
But I don’t understand.
“The Empire is counting on you,” General Sal says. “Push harder. More. Increase your power!”
So I followed his orders, with the need to secure our border.
To protect my friends. Not hurt them.
But I fucked up. I pushed too hard. Too much.
I always do too much.
My feet stumble forward, and tears fall from my chin, obscuring my vision while I try to count the dead. As I follow the protocol like a good Imperial Sergeant.
Forgetting what it is to be just a magical being. One who cares for others and fucks it all up regardless. My Gods. How in the fuck am I going to report this?
No. I swivel around, hoping this is all a joke. Just one big, coordinated effort to get back at me for all of my terrible attempts at humor.
Because this can’t be happening. It’s my worst fucking nightmare. One I need to wake up from—to find them laughing before they complain and refuse to clean the latrines like usual. I don’t care about protocol. They can refuse all they want, so long as they all fucking get up.
Shattered breaths crowd my chest as I frantically search the ground, losing count of the bodies strewn around me, each one appearing too peaceful—as if they’re all simply sleeping.
But I haven’t seen Jase’s face, and hope bursts within my ribs that he might have been able to get out of range fast enough.
Maybe his incessant need to eat will end up being the thing that saved him. From me.
My heart lurches at the thought I could be wrong, at my selfish need for my best friend to have been spared when all the others lie here lifeless.
I want to run and hide. To close my eyes and refuse to see the closer I move toward the canteen. But I cannot be my father. I refuse to be the coward who hides from all the damage I’ve caused.
I need to see it all. I have to face what I have done.
My feet continue on, propelled by a lifetime of guilt and shame, and then my heart shatters.
Because there he is. And no amount of denial can change it.
That spray of black hair. It’s so distinctly him.